A nondescript freighter sat peacefully in one of the docks at the Keldabe spaceport. The vessel had arrived on Mandalore completely legally and aroused no suspicion from the authorities. After all, what kind of danger could arrive on a light freighter from Coruscant? At least, that's what one of the Mandalore sector's border control officers thought when he granted the freighter permission to land in Keldabe.
Yet, if the complacent Mandalorians had bothered to check the Dawn's Eagle and its crew... their opinion on the threat level posed by these "harmless traders" would have drastically changed.
After all, the freighter was armed significantly better than necessary for safe travel through Republic space or even Hutt territory. And what should have raised even more questions was the fact that all its weaponry, save for one pathetic laser cannon, was hidden and completely undocumented. The crew, in turn, boasted a variety of highly suspicious individuals. Starting with the owner of the ship, known across different parts of the galaxy by various names and officially a member of the Jedi Order. The others were no less questionable: a Mandalorian mercenary known in the territories of the Hutt Cartel; a Zabrak assassin who had managed to stay entirely off the grid; and a child from Tatooine, not yet ten standard years old, who had already played a role in the Battle of Naboo. The droids seemed the least suspicious... and that was a mistake. For the harmless protocol droid was, in reality, the most efficient and ruthless killer in the galaxy.
And this killer was currently trying to shake off one persistent, minor meatbag, whom the Master's direct order prevented him from simply shooting.
When Revan assigned HK to train Anakin, neither the teacher nor the student was pleased with the decision. The maniacal droid considered lessons with the restless child a waste of time and a waste of his magnificent potential as an assassin. The boy, having grasped the direction and methods of the training in the very first session, was simply terrified of the mechanical killer. And attempting to complain to his Master yielded no results. Revan, who had observed one of the droid's lessons, merely scolded the boy for laziness and excessive arrogance when the youngling decided to prove to his teachers that handling a blaster didn't require much intelligence. He paid the price for that.
HK taught harshly... but effectively. Skywalker quickly realized this as he began to make his first successful strides in handling a blaster weapon. Knowledge of the operating principles and specifics of different types of rifles and pistols allowed the budding Force-sensitive to better understand how to calculate shot trajectories more accurately and how to more effectively use his still-weak abilities in Force premonition to avoid injury. Even the Mandalorian mercenary was impressed by the boy's rapid progress.
Despite all his dislike for the killer droid, Skywalker was forced to admit that the lessons had been useful. And after HK demonstrated his capabilities in a training session with Tira, making the student understand that a blaster remains a blaster at any range and can be used even in hand-to-hand combat, Anakin began to develop a respect for the droid.
The final straw that forced the boy to completely reconsider his attitude toward HK-47 was an incident on Dromund Kaas. Anakin had considered Jedi to be invulnerable warriors, vastly superior to all other fighters, especially simple shooters. Thus, he could not believe that a mere droid had managed to defeat several opponents at once. Even though they weren't Jedi, but, according to Revan, Force-sensitives who had undergone similar training, and even though HK was far from a simple droid, Skywalker was impressed.
From that day on, the boy never missed an opportunity to learn from 47's experience regarding methods of counteracting various opponents. The killer droid himself was not enthusiastic about this change.
"HK!" Anakin cornered the droid in the mess hall.
"Irritated retort: Not now, meatbag. I have an assignment from the Master," the mechanical maniac brushed him off, his assassin protocols already lining up a perfect blaster bolt impact point on the forehead of the persistent youngling.
"I'm going on a mission too!" the boy persisted.
"Indifferent statement: My condolences. I shall send a notification of your untimely demise to Coruscant."
HK lifted Skywalker by the collar of his light jacket and moved him out of the way.
"Hey, I'm still alive!" the child blocked his path again.
"Interested query: Do you wish for me to assist in resolving that problem?"
"No!" Anakin quickly replied, the memory of his first lessons with the killer droid flashing in his mind.
Threatening declaration: "Then stop standing in my way, meatbag."
HK walked around the boy and headed for the exit.
"Wait!" Skywalker overcame the fear that had gripped him for a moment and blocked the droid's path once more.
Although the assassin, forced to stop again, merely flashed his optical sensors in response, Anakin felt he had walked the very edge of the precipice.
At that very moment, a fierce battle was being waged within HK-47's core processor between his programming blocks, assassin protocols, and personality matrix. Some suggested disposing of the annoying mission hindrance in the most brutal manner, and others, specifically the personality matrix, were not against the idea... Only the logic blocks insisted on a strict prohibition against inflicting any harm upon the small, bothersome meatbag. The only loophole remained within the training parameters, where the judicious use of force and disciplinary punishments still left the killer droid "room for creativity." However, based on the persistent requests from the annoying meatbag, the effectiveness of the disciplinary measures was clearly insufficient. Yet another subroutine reminded him of the Master's order to train Skywalker and ensure the brainless, minor meatbag did not destroy himself... or others.
Making a note to tighten the training program and revise the system of punishments... and perhaps erase some irritating programming blocks to the Hutts, HK condescended to answer his unwelcome student.
"Impatient statement: One question, and I advise you to ask it quickly."
Anakin was even flustered by the sudden good fortune.
"Um..." the boy trailed off, blinking and trying to make his mind formulate a coherent sentence.
"Mocking observation: If the nervous tic you have been demonstrating for the last three seconds carries a secret message, its meaning eludes me."
"I…"
"Feigned contemplation: Unless it is a desperate cry for help."
"But…"
"False enthusiasm: For instance, you are trying to say that you sincerely regret being the most useless meatbag among the entire crew and the source of most problems for your mentors, and that, unable to endure the mental anguish any longer, you sincerely ask me to end the suffering of all ship inhabitants by separating your empty cranial unit from your scrawny little body."
Skywalker obviously realized that the killer droid should not be bothered in vain, but it was too late to back down. Yet the words circling in his head still refused to form a coherent question. HK, even being just a droid, possessing no Force abilities due to his artificial nature, was somehow able to intimidate his interlocutor. A chilling sense of danger and a distinct vibration in the flow of the Force, which even a novice Force-sensitive like Anakin could feel, emanated from the mechanical killer whenever he did not wish to answer the boy's questions. Skywalker did not understand how a non-living droid managed this. The boy's Master could not give a clear answer to this question either.
Revan, by his own admission, never considered HK-47 to be a simple droid, merely a tool for assassination and executing his will. The former Jedi had created HK while he was already on the Dark Side, a time when trusting allies was difficult. The droid became the one being he could trust with assignments no one else should know about. Cruel, efficient, and unconditionally loyal, the mechanical maniac could be called the closest thing to a "friend" a Sith could have.
For years, the droid traveled the galaxy, seeking out and eliminating Force-sensitives, gathering intelligence, and carrying out all of the Master's instructions. He had been to the Star Forge, the Star Map caches, Jedi enclaves, the Temple on Coruscant... Eventually, he spent several thousand years in a cave steeped in the Force. This could not fail to leave its mark.
While remaining incapable of sensing or using the Force, HK was nonetheless saturated with it. Revan felt this very distinctly but couldn't fully explain it. The phenomenon most reminded him of cases where Force-sensitives were so attached to a specific item, like armor or a starship, that a full-fledged Force bond formed between them, allowing the item to take on certain properties.
In the Order, for example, there were known instances where Jedi Generals would prevent their ships from being destroyed, even after sustaining critical damage, or could mentally guide them even from a considerable distance.
Could Revan have unknowingly bonded HK to himself? From the first days after activation, the droid began exhibiting signs of an independent personality, something that usually only occurred in similar machines after several years of operation, and then only if memory wipes were not performed. HK was unique. And Anakin was once again experiencing that uniqueness firsthand.
R2-D2, who rolled into the mess hall, saved Skywalker from the killer droid's grasp.
"Indignant denial: I am not intimidating, but rather exerting all efforts to assist the useless meatbag, as our Master commanded," HK stated in response to a series of indignant beeps in Binary.
The astromech's reply was so saturated with skepticism that the message was clear even to one unfamiliar with Binary.
"Challengingly: Bleep something else, you pointless trash-bin, and I will conduct an unscheduled lesson for the meatbag on the internal workings of astromech droids."
R2 did not back down and, with a threatening whir, activated a manipulator arm with an ion discharge tip hidden beneath one of his body panels.
"Feigned fear: Oh, how terrifying," HK mocked. "Is that an oil applicator? Even T3 had a blaster. What do you have, bucket of bolts?"
The astromech was utterly outraged and practically sparked with indignation. It seemed one more moment and the little droid would attack HK. But what the confrontation would have resulted in was not meant to be known.
"Enough!" Revan snapped, having observed the unfolding scene for the last few minutes while leaning against the doorway.
"Polite remark: Master," HK straightened up, having undoubtedly noticed his creator before anyone else.
"Dee-ooh-ooooh," R2 protested mournfully, trying to convey to Revan the full depth of the insult inflicted by the maniacal droid.
"Master! I... I just wanted to ask HK a question," the boy began to justify himself, meeting his mentor's stern gaze.
"And what was this question?" Revan asked calmly, shifting his gaze from one debater to the other.
"Sarcastic observation: He would not tell, even under torture," the killer droid's optical sensors flashed.
"Silence, HK." Revan gestured for his creation to be quiet. "Go on, Anakin."
"You said we're going on reconnaissance to Mandalore!" Skywalker rattled off. "I managed to read something about the planet on the HoloNet, but I couldn't find anything sensible about its army. It's as if they don't have one. Tira is a Mandalorian, and she's very strong. What if everyone there is like that? What if we have to fight? So I decided I should ask one of my mentors how to deal with a Mandalorian."
"Convincing instruction: Do not be seen by a Mandalorian," HK interjected.
"But what if I have to?" Anakin insisted.
"Advice: Shoot for the visor, do not stand still, avoid close range."
"I agree with HK on all points," Revan chuckled. "Until you finish your training, it's best not to engage with Mandalorians. If combat is unavoidable, keep moving and try to escape."
"Addendum: And kill the opponent before he kills you."
"HK!" Revan admonished the mechanical maniac.
"What if I don't want to kill anyone?" Skywalker inquired. "Can't I just stun them? Hit them on the head with something heavy! Or throw them against a wall. Right?"
Revan shook his head. "Mandalorians don't wear armor for decoration."
"What do you mean?"
HK spoke instead of the mentor.
"Unnecessary clarification of the obvious: Mandalorian beskar'gam effectively protects the wearer from kinetic and thermal impact. Cases have been documented where the armor suit saved the wearer even during the close-range detonation of a MAP-4 anti-personnel mine. Sarcastically: Naturally, a strike to the head would be the optimal tactic."
"HK, that's enough," Revan frowned. "But, Anakin, our pet maniac is essentially correct. It's quite difficult to stun an armored opponent with anything, unless using an electro-shock or by exploiting vulnerable points in their gear. You are not trained for that yet, so don't take unnecessary risks. Follow me and don't do anything foolish."
"Yes, Master," the child mumbled sullenly.
"Go to your quarters. Prepare for departure. We leave in one hour."
"Yes, Master."
Skywalker hurried away, throwing one last aggrieved glance at HK. The droid was pleased with the result. Perhaps this time, the minor meatbag would leave him alone for at least a week.
"Now for you two," Revan turned to the droids.
With readiness: "Master?"
"Dee-ooh?"
"You are going to Concordia together."
HK twitched slightly as a surge of voltage went through his circuits.
"Query for confirmation: What?"
"R2 is going with you. You'll need an experienced 'ice-pick'."
The astromech emitted a joyous trill in Binary, expressing boundless gratitude for the trust and opportunity provided.
"Indignant declaration: I am quite capable of handling the slicing myself. And I operate far better alone!" The killer droid was not enthusiastic about the idea of a partnership with the astromech.
"Judging by your own reports from Coruscant, without Nomad's help, you wouldn't have been able to exit the Republic Archives building quietly and without incident."
"Dejected statement: But..."
"And the information retrieval would have been significantly complicated. Your own words, correct?"
"Grumpy confirmation: Yes, Master."
"Excellent. R2, you are going with HK. Follow his instructions until you return aboard the Eagle. You are dismissed."
Smiling shrewdly, Revan left the mess hall, leaving a joyous R2 and a flabbergasted HK alone. The operation no longer inspired the same enthusiasm in the killer droid. After all, now he would have to account for R2's actions, and even cover for this clumsy and slow partner. He was the Master's property. And the Master's property must be protected.
"Dejected statement: We depart in ten minutes."
"Dee-ooh-beep!" the astromech cheerfully confirmed and rolled toward the cargo ramp.
Finding a vessel bound for Concordia was simple enough. Passenger and cargo flights between Mandalore and its largest moon operated regularly. After all, Concordia was currently feeding the ravaged Mandalorian homeworld. While the moon itself wasn't in the best shape, as the rapid development of the mining industry had significantly shrunk the area of arable land, Concordia's current governor had outlined a plan to restore the planet's ecosystem… or so the slogans of the election campaign, held nearly a year ago, had proclaimed. Ultimately, Pre Vizsla, the man behind those slogans, won the election, and by all accounts, the governor enjoyed popular support.
The intense scrutiny surrounding the official somewhat complicated the mission, as Vizsla was the thread that, according to Nomad, led straight to Death Watch. After all, his clan-mate had been the leader of Death Watch until he was killed by Jango Fett. Getting close to planetary government members was routine business for HK. This time, however, the assassin droid was accompanied by an astromech. And R2's behavior, displaying excessive enthusiasm and a craving for adventure, could jeopardize the entire infiltration and data retrieval operation.
The assassin reassured his computational core with the thought that he always had the option of a forced breakthrough. His Master would not approve, but sometimes there were no other ways to cover his tracks and escape with the haul. The order was to find information and leave no traces, was it not? Accidents happen every day. Nothing unusual, correct?
"Dwoooo," R2 dragged out mournfully, surveying the gloomy interior of the cargo bay on the transport shuttle bound for Concordia.
Droids were only permitted in the passenger cabin if their owner could not function without their mechanical servant's aid. HK and R2 arrived at the spaceport without an escorting owner, ostensibly on an urgent mission. Why waste expensive seats in a comfortable transport cabin when droids require no such luxury? Thus, the droids found themselves in the cargo hold of the M-2549 shuttle.
"Tired Remark: For an astrodroid who served on a government yacht, you are far too eager to see how these worthless meatbags live," HK stated in response to R2's chirp.
"Space is just blackness. Boring," the astromech conveyed his opinion. "Cities and planets. Interesting."
There were no other droids in the cargo bay, and R2-D2 had neutralized the surveillance cameras as soon as the pair of infiltrators boarded. HK could, therefore, stop pretending to be a courteous protocol droid and give free rein to his personality core.
"Observation: On all planets, everything is precisely the same," the assassin droid countered. "Explanation: Class division, whether overt or veiled, the inevitable proliferation of corruption, and a multitude of vulnerabilities in law enforcement. Only the scenery changes."
"Dwoo-Dip?"
"Answer: Yes, I consider space superior."
Even in binary, R2's subsequent exclamation sounded utterly indignant.
"Woo-pip?! Fyooo???" — which could be translated as, "Are you defective?! How is it superior?"
"Condescending Answer: Space is filled with darkness, cold, and death, and meatbags are mostly incapable of surviving in it without protective gear. No light, no sound, the perfect hunting environment."
"There is no one to hunt," R2 noted.
"Philosophical Remark: Nowhere is perfect."
The astromech rotated his dome so that his optical sensor was aimed directly at HK-47.
"You are strange," he concluded.
"Indifference: You are also strange, talking scrap heap."
In response to the offensive moniker, the astromech launched into an angry tirade, which the killer successfully tuned out past his audio sensors.
"Situation Clarification: The Master provided explicit instructions. On Concordia, you will follow my directions and ask no extraneous questions."
"Dwoo?"
"Answer: That is an extraneous question."
"Boo-dit?"
"Explanation: We will infiltrate the governor's residence disguised as couriers from the Kararis Mining and Processing Company."
"Beep-doo-dit?"
"Annoyed Answer: Yes, such a company exists and is registered on Corlus-3. A minor organization, constantly seeking new low-cost raw material suppliers. No suspicion should arise. And do not interrupt my speech again."
"Fyoot."
"Indifference: And the same to you, bucket of bolts."
Another volley of specific curses in binary was left without due attention.
"Continuation of Explanation: Next, we will penetrate the governor's office or the server room, depending on which offers the most discreet access to the target terminal. Your assignment is to bypass security and copy the data. Is that understood?"
"Woo," the astromech drew out resentfully.
"Enthusiastically: Excellent. After that, we retreat along the same route to the spaceport and depart the planet."
"Woo-dit?"
"Anticipatorily: If something goes awry, we will proceed according to circumstances."
The flight to Concordia was rather short, which was not surprising, as Mandalore's moon was located quite close. The spaceport where the M-2549 transport shuttle landed was small and intended only for minor passenger vessels, as it was situated in the administrative district of Concordia's capital. Cargo ships were received at other spaceports located further from residential areas.
To HK's surprise, who had expected to see Mandalorians in their familiar armor, no one besides the spaceport security personnel was wearing beskar'gam. Apparently, despite the fact that nearly all Mandalorians faithful to tradition were exiled to this moon, openly wearing the armor was not customary here.
The architecture resembled the traditional Mandalorian structures that could still be seen in Sundari and on Concord Dawn. Such buildings became increasingly rare after the Purge. Especially those decorated with clan symbols and traditional patterns. Nonetheless, HK noted to himself that he was profoundly disappointed by how the Mandalorians had changed.
"Identification, name, and purpose of arrival," a local customs officer stated without looking up, processing the shuttle passengers. It was now the turn of the pair of droid infiltrators.
"Benevolently: H4-K7 and R2-D2, authorized representatives from the Kararis Mining and Processing Company. We have arrived to negotiate with the Concordia administration regarding prospective raw material purchases from your mining operations," HK replied, once again playing the harmless protocol droid, and presented a holodisk with supporting documentation.
The reply made the customs officer look up at the droids in surprise. "Droids?"
"Affirmative statement: Quite correct, esteemed spaceport officer."
"Have they gone completely bust in their backwater?" the customs officer grumbled. "Sending droids instead of people now. Cutting costs?"
The situation was not entirely unusual. Many less affluent companies sent droids to negotiations. It was far cheaper to dispatch a protocol droid, who required no food or lodging expenses and possessed exhaustive information about the company's capabilities and needs, than to bother with organizing a business trip for a biological employee. Furthermore, a droid could ignore questionable offers and guaranteed the company protection from unscrupulous deals or unfavorable terms in exchange for a "kickback."
"Length of stay?"
"Enthusiastic reply: One standard day," HK replied.
Nodding at the droid's words, the spaceport employee entered the information into the system and approved the droids' stay on Concordia. "Next."
Bidding a polite farewell, HK and R2 left the spaceport and headed toward the airspeeder rental pad. They needed to hire one to reach the governor's residence.
The astromech excitedly spun the top part of his chassis, trying to gather as much data about the surroundings as possible. Little R2 found everything interesting. It was not often he got a chance to visit another world. HK, meanwhile, wondered how the technicians on Naboo had allowed such a deformation of the astromech's personality matrix.
Already en route to the Concordia administration building, which housed the governor's office, the killer droid took care to organize cover. He contacted a representative of the local government's trade bureau and scheduled an appointment. The wait, however, was set for significantly more than one day, but that no longer mattered. The main thing was that the droids now had an official reason for their visit.
The administration building did not impress with its scale or luxury. After all, the colony was not originally very large and had specialized in agriculture. After the discovery of mineral deposits and the development of the mining industry, settlements were rebuilt several times, but the administration was not given due attention. The government was located on Mandalore. Only local governance was situated here on Concordia. And flaunting the colony's wealth and success would have been imprudent.
There was not as much security as HK had expected. The Republic Archives were better guarded. The droids passed the security checkpoint with minimal delay, caused by checking their accompanying documents and querying the governor's secretariat for confirmation of the scheduled meeting. As soon as the information was confirmed, HK and R2 passed into the building without any hindrance. No one bothered to check the date for which the meeting was scheduled.
The surveillance system was standard for Republic administrative buildings. Clearly, the new government of Mandalore was striving with all its might to demonstrate its unity with the Republic, imitating it in every way. Not the best tactic. HK noted that if his chassis design allowed it, he would definitely spit in annoyance, expressing his opinion about the pacifist Mandalorians.
Giving the astromech the prearranged signal, HK proceeded to execute his plan. The first stage was accessing the internal security network. Calculating the most convenient access point, which was virtually unmonitored by surveillance cameras, the killer droid escorted his partner to the terminal. Connecting and slicing the security proved easy for the astromech, which forced HK to slightly revise his opinion on the uselessness of the bucket of bolts thrust upon him.
First, the infiltrators disabled the video surveillance system by deactivating several cameras and initiating a self-diagnostic program. While the system attempted to restore functionality, R2 copied the building plan, marked the security patrol routes and the location of the governor's office, after which he scrubbed the intrusion traces, left a remote access backdoor for himself, and disconnected from the network.
"Query: All systems ready?" HK asked.
The astromech chirped affirmatively.
"Query: Display the building schematic."
R2 projected a holographic 3D image of the governor's residence, marking the location of Pre Vizsla himself, his office, as well as the server node from which one could connect to the target's personal terminal.
HK quickly calculated the options and devised the best approach. Vizsla was too close to his terminal and would inevitably notice if someone gained access to it. The system was configured such that upon any attempt to copy files, the source terminal would receive a notification of the ongoing operation. They needed to distract the governor.
"Command: Proceed to the server node and await my signal. I will engage the target," HK ordered.
R2 quickly beeped in confirmation and rolled further down the corridor.
The killer droid decided to stage a small diversion. After all, this approach had worked on Coruscant. Why not try it here as well?
With a confident stride, yet without attracting undue attention, HK-47 reached the reception area of the Concordia governor and unceremoniously shoved through the crowd awaiting an audience, making his way toward the secretary's desk.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Hutt's droid!"
"Watch out!"
Those waiting to meet the governor were less than thrilled about the metallic humanoid pushing past them. The attention of everyone present, including the guards, was now focused on HK.
"Indignantly: This is outrageous! My masters, the esteemed founders of the Kararis Mining and Processing Company, cannot wait for a full three days! I demand that a meeting be conducted with me, as a representative of the Kararis Mining and Processing Company, immediately!"
The droid's furious speech only added fuel to the crowd's discontent, and the fire of a full-blown scandal ignited instantly.
Cursing and insults rained down from every direction. Those who had come for an audience with the governor shouted over each other, venting all their opinions about the arrogant droid.
Seizing the opportunity and the general uproar, HK copied the voices of a few particularly outraged trade company representatives and, using their voices, insulted a couple of their competitors. Of course, even over the din, the targets heard how the representatives of rival organizations spoke of them. The droid immediately ceased to be the center of attention. The offended parties rushed to defend their honor and the honor of their companies, naturally pouring out rivers of verbal sewage onto those who had dared to speak ill of them.
And then the real chaos began after HK subtly nudged one of the arguing parties and that person's fist clipped their opponent's shoulder… The general brawl, which threatened to escalate into a full-scale fight, was only prevented by the timely intervention of the security detail.
Drawn by the noise of the scuffle, the Governor himself stepped out into the reception area. This was exactly what HK-47 had been aiming for, and he immediately sent a signal to R2 to connect to Pre Vizsla's terminal.
Everything was going according to plan. Dashing into the Governor's office now was pointless and, more importantly, a risk to the operation's success. Therefore, HK quickly left the reception area while Vizsla and the guards were occupied with managing the situation.
Out of habit, the assassin noted that if he had been tasked with eliminating any of the people present, this moment would have been ideal. Not a single trace would remain. One precise vibroblade strike. Quiet and efficient.
Only a few minutes later, a signal of success arrived from his partner. R2 had evidently found something interesting on the Governor's terminal. All that remained was to leave the building and study the acquired information. With luck, they would learn something about the activities of Death Watch. If the Governor had no relevant intel… they would have to change tactics. HK did not plan to return to his Master empty-handed.
Suddenly, his sensitive sensors picked up the sound of approaching footsteps. HK prepared to once again pose as an outraged protocol droid, but the situation took a different turn.
Turning around, the assassin droid saw two Mandalorians in full armor before him, colored in shades of blue and silver. All 47 could do was cross-reference the clan markings on their armor with the list he had received from Tira. Reu and Dar, clans actively supporting Death Watch. Without giving the droid a chance to speak, the pair of warriors fired. The ion pulse should have immobilized and deactivated the droid. However, HK-47's creator had prepared for such an event, installing a backup power system and automatic computational core reboot, which had more than once helped the mechanical maniac escape from difficult situations, such as during his escape from the prison block on the Leviathan.
However, instead of fighting back, HK decided to feign deactivation. After all, if the very people he needed to gather information on were obligingly coming to him, why resist? They might even carry him to their hideout, thus solving another problem in finding the enemy base.
"Di'kutla beskar'ad!" one of the attackers snorted.
"He is many things, but not foolish," his female partner countered. "A 'foolish droid,' as you put it, wouldn't have managed to divert our attention so cleverly."
"He wasn't acting alone. His Master must be nearby," the first one spoke again.
"He had an astromech with him," the woman added. "We need to find that one too."
"And what about this one? Scrapped?"
HK prepared for a fight, but it wasn't necessary.
"No, we'll take him to the technicians. His construction is too interesting. Maybe we can find out something about his owner."
"What? I'm not hauling him!"
"No one asked you! That's an order!" the woman snapped.
The first shooter mumbled something in Mando'a but obeyed. He couldn't lift HK by himself, so he called for someone else's assistance.
HK's sensors registered one of the newcomers whisper faintly and with obvious fear: "Aden ani'la beskar'kyr'am…"
"A merciless, ultimate iron death," HK translated from Mando'a. "It's been a while since I was called that."
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